Today’s plan is to go to town, grab some building materials, and jump on that apartment that needs gutting. The tenant lived there thirty years and just went into a nursing home. The place needs a new kitchen and bathroom along with flooring and painting done.
Have sledgehammer, will demolish.
***
With the amount of materials Grey ordered that I need to pick up today, my first stop is the house so I can put Bailey’s books upstairs.
But when I step inside, my nose tells me Bailey was recently here.
I find my bed made and it wasn’t when I came over the other day for clothes.
What was she doing here? Sleeping? And I missed it?
There’s a damp towel and wet washcloth hanging in the bathroom. After pulling in her scent from them, I go to the kitchen and see a coffee mug and a spoon in the dish rack.
I call her.
“Hello?” she answers breathlessly.
“Hey,” I greet. “How are you?”
“I’m… I’m okay. I… actually um… stayed at your house last night.”
“I’m here now. I can tell.”
“I should’ve asked first. Sorry.”
“Why do you sound so out of breath?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m… moving books around.”
“Breathe, baby.”
A beat later she says, “Yeah, sorry I didn’t ask.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s your house now too, Bay.”
“Um… it’s just… well… when you dropped me off last night, Mom and Dad were being uh…loud.”
It takes a second for me to realize what she’s referring to. I bark out a laugh.
There’s humor in her voice when she replies. “Mimi Young fixed the issue with Mom’s scent and I listened to it against my will allnight the night before and couldn’t take any more of it. I figured since you were at Ty’s cabin… uh… I hoped you wouldn’t mind.”
“Move in today,” I say instantly.
There’s silence for a beat before she whispers, “Jase.”
Fuck, hearing her voice soft like that, I press my forehead to the wall. I need her to whisper my name just like this when I’m finally inside her.
“Hear me out. Move in. Tell me when you’re ready for me to move back in. I’ll stay at the cabin until then. No pressure. Move in, Bay. Sleep here tonight. I’ll bring all your stuff over when you’re ready.”
“It’s not a terrible idea to give Mom and Dad their privacy,” she says. “They’re like honeymooners.”
“Glad to hear that after what they just went through.”
“Yeah,” she whispers, sounding emotional.
“At least somebody’s getting lucky,” I mutter without measuring my words. I wince. “Forget I just said that. We’re going at your pace. I take that back. No pressure. I’m sorry.”